The Speedo Man
by ShadowFox197
Summary: Alfred is spending his summer home from college lifeguarding at his local pool. Upon the Fourth of July Alfred finds a particularly unpatriotic Brit, and can't help but be curious about why he's there…wearing a Union Jack speedo. A bet with Francis immediately ensues: Is he gay? Or European? Hopefully you find this amusing...
1. Chapter 1

Alfred sat complacently on the edge of his seat, bare feet dangling five feet above the ground. His whistle was clamped between his teeth, the knotted cord hanging limply around his neck. The sun beat down on his bare back with unremitting heat, causing a consistent gleam of perspiration to coat his already tanned skin.

Below him the pool writhed with activity; kids shrieked to each other, toys were thrown every which way, and parents gazed from the edges in bewilderment. Barbecues were firing off hotdogs at an alarming rate, while the music from over a dozen separate parties roared to dominate one another.

Overall, it was an average Fourth of July at the pool.

Alfred paused to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead, adjusting his sunglasses to better accommodate the high angle of the sun. Glancing up at the glaring red clock on the wall, Alfred inwardly signed, glad to know that a 10-minute-break for the kids was quickly approaching.

Not a moment later, Francis, one of Alfred's colleagues, bellowed the cherished call to order all minors out of the pool. A few adults slipped in, glad to escape the heat for a few precious minutes.

Stretching his stiff muscles, Alfred slowly climbed down the ladder attached to his stand, letting his red guard buoy thunk onto the ground beside him.

Francis sidled up to him a moment later, passing Alfred an icy water bottle wordlessly.

Alfred took it with a grateful smile. "Man it is HOT," he stuck out his tongue, running the bottle along the back of his neck. "This heat better be record breaking…" he muttered, staring suspiciously up at the sun. "I might murder somebody if it gets any hotter than this."

Francis scoffed, characteristically dramatizing the action with an eye roll. "It's July. What do you expect?" He flipped his chin length hair dramatically over his shoulder, wafting his "manly" scent onto Alfred.

Alfred paused where he was, a deadpan look overcoming his features.

"Random question," he began. "When's the last time you had sex?" he asked, suspicions growing exponentially.

"This morning." Francis hummed, stretching one arm over his head. "Why do you ask?"

Alfred sniffed.

"Ohohoh, you want advice? I assure you, my sex life is extremely interesting," Francis wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, rubbing shoulders with Alfred. "I can teach you so much if only you'd ask!"

Alfred took a large step away from Francis. "That's alright," he assured Francis with the best smile he could manage, "it's just that you get this certain…smell…after..." _Well that came out fantastically_ , Alfred thought, grimacing. _I should just shut up shut up shut up…_

Francis oddly did not hear him.

"So what part do you want to hear about?" Francis asked, looking genuinely concerned for some reason. He licked his lips, as if preparing for a speech.

Alfred gave him a horrified look, about to spout some ungodly thing about the sacredness of virgins just to throw Francis off, when suddenly, something behind Francis caught his eye, stealing Alfred's words.

"What the fuck is _that_?!" Alfred exclaimed in bewilderment, forcing Francis to swing around and look where Alfred was.

A man, probably in his early twenties, was making his way down the steps to the pool, casually sporting a red, white, and blue speedo. A very tight speedo. But that's not exactly what Alfred was looking at.

"Why is that guy wearing a Union Jack speedo on the Fourth of July?!" Alfred shrieked, horror overcoming his features. His eyes had grown wide, and his mouth was gaping open.

Francis raised a single eyebrow, taking a good look at the man.

"At least he has the body for it." He stated simply.

"FOURTH OF JULY!" Alfred waved his arms in Francis's face. "Do you know what that means!" His ears were reddening, and his voice was exponentially growing louder. "That's unpatriotic," he hissed, mannerism changing dramatically. He threw a dirty glare towards the speedo. "I should kick him out of here…"

Francis chuckled, steering Alfred's gaze from the speedo man.

"Here's a question," Francis began, seemingly oblivious to Alfred's rancor. "Is he gay, or European?" He looked pointedly at Alfred.

"Gay." Alfred said a second later, momentarily loosing his anger. "Are you always thinking about stuff like that?" he asked, eyebrows knitting in concern. "And what does that have to do with anything?"

Francis chuckled, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "This has everything to do with you. You need to learn these kinds of things."

Alfred gave his friend a questioning look, suspicion returning. "What things?"

"If he is gay, Francis declared, blue eyes glinting dangerously, "I will buy our drinks tonight."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. _He does know I'm going all out tonight, right? It's the Fourth of July!_

Francis interrupted his thoughts again, "But if he is European," Francis leaned in even closer to Alfred. "Then you buy drinks."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "So this is a bet?" He clarified. Francis nodded. "A bit of a competition too," he smirked. "We have to prove that he is either gay or European. Hard evidence."

"Deal," Alfred smirked, shaking hands with Francis to seal the pact.

"Do whatever you can to find out," Francis said, giving Alfred a wink.

Alfred rolled his eyes at Francis, ignoring the erotic implications his words carried.

Francis threw him one last knowing look, then stalked over to the other end of the pool, smiling slyly when he passed the man in the speedo. He was stretching by the edge of the pool, lean arms stretched high above his head as he twisted and turned this and that way.

Alfred stuck his tongue out at Francis, climbing up onto his own stand.

Francis was totally buying drinks tonight.

 **Author's Note:** I can't believe "hotdog" is not a word. That's despicable. I do not understand.

But besides that, please let me know what you think! If you have any suggestions, or comments, review and I will try and incorporate them as best I can. Suggestions are always welcome. Also, if you want to make someone have a good day, review, because I guarantee it will make me happy! Let me know this isn't being sent off into a void!

Also, updates will probably be slow (once every couple weeks?) because I am a busy person. Reviews remind me that this exists, so...yeah. (:

Have a lovely day!


	2. Chapter 2

Once on the stand, Alfred watched the man in a speedo with a keen eye.

Somehow, he was going to have to find out if that man was gay.

Just by watching him.

Already, Alfred was adding faults to his character. In his mind, the man was below scum, due to that accursed speedo. And he had this, this...cocky sway, that was only exemplified by a permanent smirk. And his eyebrows! What was wrong with them?! The man's hair was blonde but his eyebrows had taken on an extremely dark tint, almost black. Even when his hair was wet they stood out like caterpillars on a leaf...

Just looking at him was pissing Alfred off. But he had to win this bet…

So he kept watching.

Begrudgingly, Alfred admitted that the man did have quite the physique. Alfred had seen far too many men with their shirts off (at the pool!) to not give him some credit. It was obvious from his toned stomach and weighted arms that he was into some kind of intense athletics.

But that did _not_ excuse the Union Jack speedo he was wearing.

No matter where the man was, Alfred couldn't stop looking at it. Even after dragging his eyes off the speedo, a few seconds later Alfred found himself glaring at it again. That stupid god damn speedo…

And the man was beginning to notice Alfred's glare.

Every now and then he would look up at Alfred, and smirk. _Smirk!_ _Who the hell does this guy think he is?!_ Alfred's internal rage monster was up and roaring, furiously waving patriotic banners.

Yet it continued. The man seemed to remain in the diving area exclusively to annoy Alfred. Or at least that's what Alfred thought.

Again and again the speedo man jumped up onto the diving board to perform perfectly sculpted dives, making hardly a bubble. Others began to shuffle aside when he got in line for the board, offering their positions just so that they could watch him dive.

Gradually, an audience of kids, followed by their parents, and then teens began to form, creating a ring around the diving well.

"Alright, what do I do next?" the man prompted, turning in a circle on the board. He ran a hand through his messy blonde hair while the children grappled for a response.

Alfred folded his hands under his chin, gaze unreadable.

 _I hope you land on your ass_. He thought dryly

"Do a triple!" One kid shouted, fist pumping.

"WAIT, No no a backwards triple!" He corrected himself, looking pleased.

Other kids began to cheer, and the parents turned to look at the speedo man expectantly.

For once the man had lost his cocky smirk.

Alfred saw his jaw tense, a steely look overcome his features.

Alfred's eyes narrowed.

He's not going to do it, right? Just because some kid asked…

 _He's not that stupid._

Alfred hoped.

The man wound up from the very end of the board, hunching forward with an odd sort of scowl on his face. His tongue was sticking out slightly, Alfred noticed.

A split second later he was off, bonding toward the end of the board. He sprang into the sky, legs tucking over his head, once, twice, three times! He crashed into the water head first, a bit sloppily, but the crowd cheered anyway.

But Alfred knew that something was wrong. There had been a crack when the man's head had collided with the water, and Alfred knew that at the height the man had been, his impact would be painful, even if he had entered correctly.

Alfred was already in the water when the bubbles started coming up red.

Taking a huge breath, Alfred dove below the surface, kicking furiously towards the bottom of the 15-foot tank.

The man was lying limp at the bottom, unconscious and bleeding from both of his ears in weaving streams of red.

Alfred hurriedly fumbled to flip the man around, hooking his arms under the other man's and pushing off the bottom to reach his discarded buoy, floating at the surface. Shifting his grip on the man to have his arm wrapped around his chest, Alfred grabbed his buoy and hauled both of them over it, clearing the man's head from the water.

At the presence of air, the man came to, gasping as his eyes snapped open in bewilderment, searching wildly around before settling on Alfred's face, which was turned towards the side of the pool, where they were heading.

The man hung onto Alfred's arms, albeit weakly, even when they bumped into the side of the pool.

Alfred saw Francis on the other side of the pool, worriedly scanning the rest of the patrons while Alfred was in the water.

Alfred turned back to look at the man he'd rescued, startled by the unnatural acidic green eyes that met his.

The man was just looking at him pathetically, eyes wide, terrified, still clinging onto his arms.

Alfred glanced pointedly at his constrained arms, mouth in a flat line.

The man's eyes widened even more, and he immediately let go of Alfred, head dipping below the surface before he came up again, sputtering. Alfred smiled sympathetically, helping him grab onto the pool side, though still keeping an arm across the man's back to make sure he didn't dip under again.

"Hi," he said softly, not wanting to hurt the man's bleeding ears.

"I'm Alfred, I'm a lifeguard. May I provide care for you?"

The man was looking at him quizzically, confused by the formality, but nodded anyway.

Their audience on the pool deck was all hushed, intently watching the scene unfold before them.

"Let's get out of the pool," Alfred said, tugging the man over to one of the step ladders. The man took the steps shakily, almost slipping before making it to the top.

Alfred hauled himself out onto the pool deck, holding the man's shoulders to keep him steady.

Shaking incredibly, the man began to sway back as forth through the parting crowd. A few steps later Alfred was holding the entirety of the man's weigh.

With a tight smile Alfred flipped the man into his arms, carrying him to where the first aid kits were in the facilities' guard shack.

The man still seemed to be in a bit of a daze when Alfred plopped him down on one of the chairs in the office, and wrapped a towel around his quivering form.

"Alright," Alfred began. "I need to check your vitals." Seeing the growing look of horror on the man's face at the mention of "vitals," Alfred quickly added, "just your heart rate. And I need to look at your ears too." Alfred coaxed a band around one of the man's pale arms, tightening it slightly. The man watched it contract numbly, eyes dilated and glazed.

While the heart rate machine checked for irregularities in the man's heartbeat, Alfred produced a small flash light, shining it into the man's right eye.

Alfred's brow furrowed when the man's pupils remained enlarged, not reacting to the light in the least.

Alfred checked his ears next, gently turning his head to get a better look inside them. A trickle of blood ran down the man's pale cheek, causing him to flinch when he saw the red spot land on the floor, just next to his toes.

Alfred grimly concluded that the man had injured both of his ear drums during his dive.

"Okay," Alfred said calmly, "You need to go to Urgent Care. I think your ear drums are ruptured and you have a concussion," he said slowly. "Is there someone who can drive you there?"

The man's eyes widened in shock again. "No," he croaked, "no, not necessary…" he trailed off into a grimace.

"So you don't want me to call them?" Alfred clarified, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't call them," the man shook his head. "I feel fine, really," he coughed.

Alfred stared at him impassively, waiting for the man to change his mind.

No response came.

"All right," Alfred said, shrugging. "I'll write down that you refused professional service. I'll go get you an ice pack for your head. Oh, and" Alfred paused midway out the door, "I'll have to monitor you for at least another hour, okay? Stay here."

Alfred gave him a firm look, which was returned by a weak smile of the man.

"Thank you," the man said.

Francis came up to the room then, having just finished clearing the pool.

"Is he okay?" He immediately asked Alfred, searching the man's face with such intensity that the man flinched.

"Relatively," Alfred shrugged. "Can you get an ice pack?" He asked. "He has a pretty bad concussion."

Francis nodded briskly, disappearing again.

A moment of silence passed.

"When will my ears heal?" the man asked suddenly.

Alfred's mouth hardened while he thought. "It may be over a month before they're fully healed," he stated, shrugging to ensure the man knew it was only a guess. "It depends on the severity. Personally, I would go visit a doctor to see if I could get a prescription to stop an infection."

The man looked glumly at the floor. "That doesn't sound very easy." He stated simply. "I don't have a doctor here."

"Here?" Alfred asked, turning around. "You're not from around here?"

"I'm afraid not." He chuckled. "Not even from America actually…I'm from London. I'm here on holiday visiting an old friend from grade school who moved here."

"Oh." Alfred said, crossing his arms. _Dammit, Francis was right! He is European!_

"All I know about London is that it rains a lot." Alfred attempted a friendly smile, leaning against a table. It was hard to play it cool when he'd just lost a bet.

Wait.

Had he lost?

Francis didn't know that the man was from London…right?

Alfred smiled slyly, reinvigorate by the knowledge.

"They don't celebrate the Fourth of July, right?" Alfred added shyly, smiling despite himself.

The man's green eyes narrowed into glaring slits. "You had to bring it up." He almost hissed.

Alfred stared. It suddenly seemed extremely cold in the room.

"Well, I mean, it is the Fourth of July. How can you expect me to _not_ bring it up?" Alfred protested, arms folding over his chest.

 _Damn I need a towel_. Alfred thought, looking at the puddle he'd made on the floor.

Francis popped in then, a hazy look to his eyes as he wordlessly shoved a few ice packs into Alfred's chest before disappearing again, most likely to inform their boss of what was going on.

Alfred gently crushed the ice packs in his hand, humbled by the sudden reminder that he had a _job_.

The man looked at Alfred expectantly, a dark glare still prominent on his face.

"Sorry," Alfred began sheepishly, pressing one of the ice packs to the back of the man's head.

"I probably shouldn't be making you angry."

"Probably not." The man said, a bit too sharply, his foot tapping on the floor.

Shamed, Alfred remained silent, mechanically pulling out a stack of incident reports from one of the cabinets.

"Alright, I need to get your name, contact information, etc., etc.," Alfred began. "It's a mandatory facility thing." He said. "So, what's your name?"

"Arthur Kirkland." The man said, studiously avoiding the lifeguards gaze.

Alfred wrote that down in scrawling ink.

"Phone number?"

"I don't have cell coverage here." Arthur replied, rolling his eyes.

"Is there a phone where you're staying?" Alfred asked.

Arthur paused. "The friend I'm staying with has one."

"Do you know their number?"

Arthur paused again, brows furrowing. "No, I don't think so."

Alfred paused.

"Does your friend know that you're here?" he asked, almost accusingly.

Arthur pondered that for a bit. "I don't think so," he admitted, scratching the back of his head, only to wince.

 _Seriously?_ Alfred thought. _Crap friend you've got there…_

"Uh, I suppose I could give you the address though if you needed that." Arthur finally looked over to Alfred. "Would that be helpful?"

"Well…yes." Alfred admitted. "But I also do need a way to contact you to check up on you later."

"Just come by the place." Arthur said simply. "I'll be home."

Alfred paused a moment, contemplating the request.

"I don't think I can do that." He said slowly, drawing out the words. "Is there no other way to contact you?"

The smirk returned. "No." Arthur said, a wolfish look overcoming his features.

Alfred swallowed hard, suddenly feeling trapped.

"I guess I can do that." Alfred finally said, fiddling with the papers in his hands.

Arthur stuck his hand, out, asking for the form. Passing it over with a clipboard and pen, Alfred couldn't help but notice he felt an odd sort of dread rising in his chest.

Arthur wrote down an address in neat print, circling it with the pen.

Looking back up at Alfred with a smile he said, "I look forward to seeing you later," and handed Alfred back the clipboard.

 **Author's Note:** Okay, I honestly don't know where this is going...which is kind of bad. Anyway, please let me know what you think (or if you have suggestions for where this should continue to)! I greatly appreciate any feedback! Thank you for reading!


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